Kale

kale-lacinato

“I’ve got discipline baby/and I use it a lot.” –Keith Elam

It was hard today. So, I stuff myself full of that leftover silky chicken from that Portuguese spot on the corner extra sauce from the fat on the side perfectly fried hand-peeled French fries that make me feel whole for a moment. But, not too much. Fuck kale. On the way to the courthouse today, my daughter yelled from the back seat, “Momomomom, look at that huuuuuge kale growing there!” In the intersection, decoratively. I explained, distractedly, that some people use it as flowers, to make things look pretty. What a waste.

I still want to finish off the pint of Ben and Jerry’s sitting in the freezer. I started thinking about it three hours ago, right after I finished my McDonald’s perfect strawberry milkshake and L’s iced coffee she left in the car on the way back from the courthouse. I know to stop, though, because the ice cream could be a finger, a fuck, a shot of rum, a cigarette. Anything to stuff me pleasurable soft skin tongue saliva and put me back in order. I know this: That this pain is temporary. I will wake tomorrow with less anxiety, put on my jog bra after I brush my teeth, then run to the gym in self-celebration. I will love me there, and I will leave feeling more complete than I do right now.

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